


You Looked at Me Like I Was Someone Else

by NORIAKICATKYOIN



Series: Legend Is Just a Title [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apex Games, Autistic Wattson | Natalie Paquette, Canon Autistic Character, Canon-Typical Violence, DarkSparks, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lesbian Character, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Ocd wraith | renee blasey, POV Wraith | Renee Blasey, Pining, Self-Acceptance, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Violent Thoughts, Vomiting, background cryptage, tw for self-induced vomiting and self harm, wraith has intrusive thoughts and implied ocd/paranoia, wraith | renee blasey has ocd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NORIAKICATKYOIN/pseuds/NORIAKICATKYOIN
Summary: -Renee Blasey felt like the name of someone else. Like the name you found in the back of the book you bought at a thrift store. Foreign, strange, completely removed, yet tied to you in a small, tenuous connection. A name where you know of the owner, but they will never know of you.'Renee Blasey didn’t, and would never know Wraith. But Wraith felt like she was learning more about her everyday.---Wraith thought she stopped being afraid a long time ago. The voices disagree.
Relationships: Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: Legend Is Just a Title [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936615
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	You Looked at Me Like I Was Someone Else

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I've been wanting to write forever, the voices of the voice always struck me as similar to my intrusive thoughts, so this is my interpretation of Wraith having OCD. This isn't beta-read so please let me know about any inaccuracies or grammatical/spelling errors.

Renee Blasey. 32 years old. Home planet: Typhon, destroyed decades ago.

None of it seemed to fit. 

She’d thought finding answers, having a place to start, would make everything feel worth it. But it only brought on more questions. More fear.

Typhon, where the IMC tested their fold weapon? Were her parents IMC? Was that how they evacuated the dying planet after she was born? Were they still alive. Still working for the IMC, stealing from the world like a blight of roaches?

She may never find out.

It didn’t discourage her. But it felt… Weird. She’d thought she’d have a moment when she heard her name for the first time. It’d fit like a missing puzzle piece and it would sound familiar. She’d wear it with pride and regain a part of her identity.

Renee Blasey felt like the name of someone else. Like the name you found in the back of the book you bought at a thrift store. Foreign, strange, completely removed, yet tied to you in a small, tenuous connection. A name where you know of the owner, but they will never know of you.

Renee Blasey didn’t, and would never know Wraith. But Wraith felt like she was learning more about her everyday.

She didn’t often think about her home planet. There was nothing remarkable she’d found about Typhon from her searches. A research outpost for the IMC’s ARES division. Destroyed in the battle of Typhon. All she was left with was knowledge of a place that no longer existed. Typhon was gone, just like Renee. She didn’t have a home waiting for her. She wasn’t even sure if she had any family who would be waiting for her.

The most home she had was here. The Apex Games were, ironically, the most stable thing she’d had in her new life. No more worrying about where to sleep, or whether she’d eat that day. She had her own apartment in the dorms provided by the games. She hadn’t known what it was like to have a place to call her own before.

She’d wake up and go eat breakfast in the commons. Watching the resident nerds, Elliott and TaeJoon, bickering over engineering schematics. Usually ending in Elliott pouting and TaeJoon rolling his eyes. Ajay smirking as she pissed both of them off with a “Why dontcha just kiss already!”.

It was always strange when a newcomer joined at first. But over time they always melded with the group. Natalie was a great example. Renee could often find her with Caustic. Talking in that bright, sweet voice of hers, as she rambled about her inventions. The fact that he never told her to be quiet or to stop talking surprised pretty much everybody.

Wraith wasn’t sure if, after all this time, she’d melded like the others.

There was that separation she couldn’t help but keep up. The internalized fear that wouldn’t go away. The pain and the memories of the facility she’d been trapped in since she’d woken up. The IMC was ruthless, and crafty. She wouldn’t put it past them to send someone after her undercover. A legend infiltrating the games to carry a mission out for them was a plausible worry.

At least, that’s what the voices said.

The voices were the other thing that kept her from getting too close. They’d gone beyond their usual problems. Which were their constant chatter, and warnings. A few had split off, and become paranoid.

The anxiety she felt from them wasn’t normal.

The paranoia was intense, and seemed never-ending in the moment. When she got stuck in a cycle of it it felt like she was trapped. Everything was worrying and nowhere was safe. She was a bird in a covered cage. Or rather, a bird in the trunk of a moving car. Scared, alone, and not sure what the hell was going on.

The paranoia was strange. It always found some arbitrary thing, some stupid, small detail to hook its claws into. Then the voices would obsess, and obsess, and _obsess_. No issue passed without being checked from top to bottom for something to worry about.

Like Bangalore mentioning the long lost IMC scientist, Renee Blasey. It _obviously_ meant she knew that was what Wraith really was. It meant Bangalore’s life as a soldier was a cover story, a lie. It meant she was here to capture her for the IMC.

Obviously.

The IMC was dead, defunct. Even Bangalore couldn’t find their survivors. Even if the IMC was looking for Wraith, seeking to dispose of their experiment gone wrong, they would’ve found her by now. How long had she been a legend, known to the Outlands as the universe’s only voidwalker? If they weren’t competent enough to find her by now, she shouldn’t worry for the future.

And yet their mantra would circle her constantly, for hours on end.

_The IMC will find you in your sleep. They’ll find you and kill you. They’ll kill everyone else too. You’re not safe here, and you never will be._

She couldn’t be afraid forever.

The conclusions she had to jump to, to confirm the thoughts, made no sense in her moments of clarity.

And those moments were far and few.

She always had to disorient her mind to see things for what they were. These voices loved it when she was tormented, in pain. Hurting herself, wasting her time, disrupting her body. It was the only way they could be satisfied, the only way to quiet them.

They craved power over her actions, forcing her to do against her will. But the blurry state of mind after she did what she was told made it harder for their words to hit their target.

She couldn’t sleep until she did what she was told, she couldn’t do anything. She wasn’t allowed to, or else bad things would happen.

But tonight she’d done what she was told. For once she’d given in. Fingers down the throat made quick work of it. _Vomit it out, flush the thoughts away, take it all away. A quick burn for a night of peace, why won’t you just get it over with? Do it. Do it now. please PLEA̢̽Ś̯͇̽Ẹ̌ ̼͕͍̄̉N̜͍͎̟͕̋̓̏͐̋O̹͉̜̠͊͒̍̚͘ͅW̢̗̰͎̌̿̎͆͜͠_

The voices were convincing, to say the least.

Vomit in the sink.

Vomit on her fingers.

Vomit on her lips.

Renee’s breaths were slow, and reverberated on the tile walls of her bathroom.

Her mind was silent for the first time that night. All she could hear were her shivering fingers hitting the porcelain of the sink, muffled by the hum in her ears. The hum being the hundreds of thousands of voices, the other Wraiths. They were all stirred together in her mind. It'd sounded like they'd melded into a singular tone once she started vomiting.

She didn’t do this often.

_Often enough._

Only when she needed the voices to stop.

The sinking feeling in her chest told her what she was doing was wrong, dangerous even. She buried it, shoving it down. What else could she do? Let the voices scream and wreak havoc? Let her brain catch fire every time someone looked at her wrong?

She turned the faucet on, washed her hands, her face, and brushed her teeth. She turned the water off, and looked in the mirror.

If she was seen by anybody else, they’d think she was like them. Not always hearing voices from other worlds. Not paranoid and terrified at every waking moment. Just her. Thirty-two year old Renee Blasey, standing in her bathroom, getting ready for bed.

She watched her reflection a few more moments. She sighed in relief when she didn’t see her eyes shift. They always did when the voices spoke to her. She pulled her gaze away, stepping off the bathroom carpet and leaving to her bedroom.

It wasn’t always like this.

She sunk back into the softness of the pillows and fresh sheets around her. She stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts for once not racing, no stray voices crying out in fear every few seconds. She shut her eyes, feeling herself start to drift. All she could hear were the comforting voices. The familiar ones who’d been with her from the start. The ones who caused her pain, who made her go through task after task, ritual after ritual until it all felt right--until it felt _safe_ ; those ones had shown up later, and made themselves right at home with the rest.

She was fine. She could deal with it. Another obstacle in her way. Nobody needed to know, nobody could help her anyway. The worst they even did was disrupt her in the arena. They’d never come on strong enough for her to not resist them. Yet, she still worried. Whether it was the paranoia overtaking logic, or the tasks they made her carry out to be relieved from the pain, she knew her mind was a risk.

Without the voices there to spiral her thoughts she brushed the worry away with relative ease. Vowing to think about it in the morning. For now, she slept.

\-----

_This is stupid, I don’t need to do this._

She shook the thought away as she pulled the elastics of her face mask behind her ears.

It was morning, and she was getting dressed. The walk from the apartments the legends stayed in to the drop ship that took them to the arena wasn’t that far. She was still worried. Recognition from fans was one thing. Recognition from an IMC agent is another.

The chances were slim, sure. _But, the fact there was a chance at all, was too big a risk to take._ The voices would rationalize. And after all, even if there was no danger, wearing a mask and a hood wasn’t hurting anyone.

She checked the sides of her mask in the mirror, making sure they were secured. The front was decorated with pale pink cherry blossoms, like her legend card.

She’d seen Crypto drawing once before they dropped in for a match, and asked if he’d help her with a design for her mask. He still had her on edge with his whole act of being touchy, secretive even. Especially when people asked anything personal. But he hadn’t done anything to give her a reason to think he was IMC.

_Not yet anyway._

She shut her eyes, taking in a breath, ignoring the voices. She pulled on a hoodie and sunglasses, to hide her eyes, and made her way to the door. The constant heat and humidity of Solace City hit her face like a bucket of water. The sweat was worth relieving her of fear. 

\--

It wasn’t long after she’d left her house when Natalie spotted her. No matter how hard she tried to hide herself, Natalie always was able to pick her out of a crowd. Maybe it was the way she walked, or the fact she looked so covered up on a planet stuck in endless summer. Either way, Wraith would never know.

“Bonjour Wraith!” Natalie called out from across the road. Wraith waved in response as she crossed over.

Natalie was wearing her signature chunky sneakers. A light denim jacket, adorned with patches covered a white t-shirt she wore underneath. All paired with white shorts. _She’s so cute._ Wraith caught herself thinking, almost blushing in embarrassment at her own thoughts.

Natalie was picking the threads at the ends of her jacket sleeves and smiling. Wraith couldn’t help but stare. At the light freckles dotting her full, round face. The way her blonde hair was frizzy, standing on end in the summer heat. Her bangs making a curtain over her blue eyes, glinting in the sunlight.

Wraith couldn’t pull her eyes away, even if she wanted. Natalie seldom made eye contact anyway, Wraith wasn’t worried her staring would be noticed.

“Sorry I didn’t swing by your room yesterday.” Nat started, grabbing Wraith’s hand loosely and walking alongside her. She struggled to keep up since her legs were a bit shorter. Wraith held her poker face, though inside she was on fire. She couldn’t tell if she was imagining how warm and soft Natalie’s hand was. “-But I was really busy working. I thought of new ideas for my interceptor pylon, and how I could make it more useful in the ring you see!”

Wraith looked over to her and nodded, humming an “Mhm?” in response. Natalie loved electricity and all the different ways she could harness it. Wraith often heard her in the mornings, talking over its properties and uses with Caustic. Both of them having intense discussions over coffee.

It’d been a while before Natalie started opening up to her about her interests. A little ramble when Wraith asked a question here. A squeal of delight when she thought of a solution there. And bright, beautiful laughter that Wraith thought she would die from if she listened too long. Lighting up the room with pure joy, paired with her stimming her hands, when something went right. That was all Wraith would catch a glimpse of before they really got close.

And she was glad they did. It felt like she could hear Natalie talk about anything for hours on end. No matter the subject. It didn’t matter if she understood the technical terms, or wrapped her head around how it worked. The pure joy in her voice was fulfilling enough. She wanted the melody of Natalie Pacquette’s voice to envelop her completely as she melted at her words.

_What if that was her plan all along?_

She jumped out of her thoughts at the voice chiming in. Natalie stopped mid-sentence and looked over, brows raised.

“You okay Wraith?” Her hand held on tighter, squeezing Wraith’s gloved one in reassurance. Wraith screwed her eyes shut and muttered under her breath at being so noticeable.

“Yeah I- I’m fine don’t worry about it.” She waved a hand, like she could brush the issue away. Talking about her problems was moot. It made the people around her feel bad for her. And that didn’t help anybody. She especially didn’t want to do that to Natalie of all people. She had enough shit to work through, _she didn’t need to hear about what the voices did to her everyday._

“Are you sure?” They’d stopped walking, stuck at a crosswalk, waiting for traffic to pause for them. “You’ve seemed sort of, on edge the past few days. And I don’t know if I remember the last time you hung out with us, or even left your room this week.” Wattson burrowed her other hand into her pocket. She was bobbing her head, moving along to music that wasn’t there.

Wraith sighed out of her nose. _She pays attention to me enough to notice that?_ She held back her smile at the thought. Turning back to Natalie’s concern.

“I’m, good I just, feel kinda out of it lately. The voices y’know, sometimes they can be overwhelming.” She tried not to get too in detail.

Natalie didn’t need to hear about how her throat was still burning. How she’d go into a frenzy, holding her head in her arms and crying, trying to scratch the thoughts away. How she’d stay up all night cleaning and organizing her apartment because _what if they find me and I can’t get out of my room fast enough._

_What if Natalie’s one of them??_

The thoughts were overwhelming. It felt like she was strapped to a chair, forced to look at something she didn’t want to. The harder she tried to shut her eyes or turn away, the clearer they became. She often ended up shaking her head at them, shutting her eyes or plugging her ears. Trying to get away from her own brain. Even if she resisted, and did nothing, it just felt like acceptance.

“I get feeling overwhelmed,” Natalie replied. Her voice lower, more monotonous as she dropped the peppy mask she often put on. “When I get overwhelmed it’s like everythings closing in and I can’t get away. I’ve got to push it all out and curl in on myself until I feel better. It’s awful.”

She re-threaded her fingers through Wraith’s and smiled up at her. Her bright, half-lidded eyes, filled with understanding. “If you need to talk about it more, I’m always here for you Wraith.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek before continuing. “I-It’s hard for me, to tell how others view me, but I hope you can see me as someone to trust.” Her voice was quieter this time, but still filled with the same softness, and genuine love.

Wraith felt like she was going to burst at the seams.

“Y-yeah I. Of course I trust you Natalie. You’re one of my closest friends here, I’d trust you with anything.” She let the words spill out, curiosity and concern jumping out at the pain she heard behind Natalie’s words. The voices stirred, uneasy. She could feel them analyzing everything Natalie said, trying to find all the wrong ways to interpret it. 

_Don’t let her tell you we’re hurting you._

She raised a brow. _So that’s where they’re going with it._

They continued, ignoring her casual observation, drowning her out.

_Who was it who saved you from the lab?? Who did the Voidwalker say to trust???_

She shook her head, willing for them to go away. But as usual, nothing happened. Luckily for her, they had other things to focus on. They’d arrived.

The gates to the boarding area for the dropship were in front of them. The rest of the legends were gathered around waiting to board. All except Elliott, who’d probably woken up late again. Wraith wondered how angry Anita would be with him this time.

When they finally boarded, she stayed in her area of the ship. She could hear the stories the others told amongst themselves. But she stayed alone. Stuck with her voices as company. The quiet wasn't ideal, but it was better than talking to people. Their words were ammunition for the storm in her head.

_She wants you to stop listening to us. She’s trying to take your power away from you. She's with the IMC͙̑ ͇͗Y̱͠OU ̝̂KN̬̊O̢̾W S͚̒HE I̻̮͑͂Ŝ̙.̰̙́̀_

She bit down on her lip and hoped the flight wouldn’t be long.

\--

Her back hit the ground with a heavy thud.

_You’ve let your guard down._

She grunted, eyes opening, then squinting at the brightness of the sun. Her ears were ringing, and her body was sore. Her back was raw like she’d been dragged. Her chest heaved. She winced at the burn in her throat, and pushed on the ground to lift herself up.

It was the second-to-last ring. They were in the endgame of the match. This was what they’d been building up to. Her, Wattson, and Bangalore were on a squad. The three of them working in almost-perfect harmony.

_Almost._

The match had been wearing down on her. They barely had time to loot for supplies, to find higher ground to survey from. Squad after squad rained bullets down on them. For once ultimate accelerants were a thing of desire. The three of them were tired. But they had to press on. They’d almost won this.

The last squad they’d downed was Octane, stuck by himself after his team had died to the ring. Wraith might’ve been fast, but he was faster. She was down before she could blink, crawling away in fear.

_There’s no more respawn beacons. We’ll lose if I die now._

He’d crept after her, ready to finish her off, when, in the distance, Bangalore took her shot. A loud crack echoing across the canyon. Wattson rushed down after Bangalore killed him. She'd ran out to get Wraith up under the cover of smoke Bangalore had thrown down. 

“Wraith, let me help you!” Wraith paused at Wattson’s voice. Her vision was still blurry, but she could hear Wattson loud and clear. She let herself be guided into a sitting position. And shuddered as she felt Wattson kneel over her. Wattson's hand hovered over Wraith’s chest ready to inject her with the syringe.

“You ready?” She asked softly. Most other legends would just hit you with the needle without warning. Wraith always felt a sense of fondness tighten her chest when Wattson asked first. She nodded in response, and gripped the hand Wattson offered to brace herself. 

This time, it didn’t happen like it usually did.

The smell of fire, the ringing in her ears, and the needle piercing her body. It was too similar, it felt too much like a memory she’d thought she’d forgotten.

The soreness in her head grew instead of lessening as the medicine entered her body. The comfort she felt was replaced with fear and anxiety. She could almost smell the scent of rubbing alcohol. _The smell that’d lingered in every crevice of the medical facility she was kept in so long ago._

Her hands shook. Her armband, a gift from the Voidwalker, beeped. Telling her that her portal was ready. The familiar noise drew her further into the fear.

_It’s just like before it’s just like before it’s just like before it’s-_

_Calm down, it’s okay. It’s okay, she’s just trying to help._

As the syringe released its last drop of fluid she let go of Wattson’s hand. Wattson gasped as Wraith suddenly lurched backward. Her legs kicked about, sloppy from the after-effects of the medication. She couldn’t think straight, overwhelmed so suddenly by the voices, it was all too much. She grabbed the syringe out of Wattson’s hand and flung it away into the swamp grass.

Both her and Wattson stared after the syringe in the grass as Wraith’s breaths slowed. _God damnit._ She didn’t want to act on her impulses _, especially not in front of Wattson._

She slowly crawled out from underneath the other girl and stood to her feet. Trying to move on from it, she reloaded her weapon and turned to Octane’s deathbox. Wattson sat there for a moment longer, before she got up and joined Wraith in looting.

“Are you alright Wraith?” Wattson whispered, glancing at her face as their hands brushed together. She’d already noticed Wraith seeming antsy, on edge because of the voices. Sure if she was having trouble it would be a hindrance to their game. But a loss was a loss, Wattson would live through it and try again. It was Wraith that she cared about.

Wraith pursed her lips and nodded, feigning interest in the large array of healing she’d found in the box. _We can handle it, it’s fine. The less she knows, the better. Besides, what if she’s looking for information on us?_ The voices were quick to share their distrust. Wraith went along with them out of convenience. There was no point in worrying her, especially this late in the game.

They’d find the last two teams, take them out, and be done with it. The voices would calm after the match, they’d have nothing to discuss. Simple.

The sound of gas canisters being thrown in their direction was the first sign of her plan going downhill.

They were down in the stream where Bridges used to be. A ravine of sorts. Perfect to line with toxic gas and trap the two of them in. Caustic didn’t think twice about taking his chance.

Wraith’s voices, the good ones, the ones she trusted, hit their target first.

_There’s a shooter, move._

_Traps being placed, it’s not safe here._

Two sentences, calm and collected. _That was what the voices should always be._

She grabbed Wattson’s hand and outstretched her free arm, opening a portal through the void.

“Someone’s got a shot on me, pretty sure. Let’s move.” She turned to see Wattson nod in response, her question to Wraith forgotten. Wraith pulled her through the portal behind her. They ran. Circling the broken-down buildings and heading to a zipline. Riding it up to where Bangalore was sniping.

“Caustic’s close by, probably up at the top near you, we’re heading over.” Wraith spoke into her ear piece. Bangalore copied back with an “Affirmative.” And their plan was in motion.

They lurched out of the void together as they reached the top. Bangalore was already in combat. Caustic was with Bloodhound, both of them trying to force Bangalore out of hiding behind a boulder further up on the cliff.

Bangalore aimed and took her shot, and a loud ‘crack’ split the air. She didn’t have much, but she _did_ have a Kraber, the strongest, and hardest to use, sniper in the outlands. And had downed Bloodhound in a single hit.

Wraith ran up alongside Wattson. She slid behind the boulder with Bangalore, pulling out her own sniper rifle, a Triple Take. She leaned it on the rock, preparing to take aim, when the voices shouted.

_He’s throwing something, MOVE._

She dropped down, a loud hiss moving over them, before a cloud of toxic gas filled the area. She felt her eyes burn, and her lungs heaving as she breathed in the fumes.

Wraith choked and coughed. She pushed through the burn as she trudged forward in Caustic’s direction. She switched her weapons, pulling out her R-99, raised it up, and looked through the sights, trying to spot him. She heard movement behind her, and turned on her heel, but Caustic shot before she had eyes on him.

Wraith fell to the ground, coughing up blood and wheezing as her gun was kicked away. 

_What’s wrong with us what’s WRONG WITH US GET UP NOW._

_Trap this is a trap this is a trap it’s a tRA-_

Caustic aimed his gun down at her, ready to finish her off, when Bangalore’s Kraber echoed through the canyon a second time. He fell, standing on his knees for a moment, before his body dissipated. Leaving behind his deathbox of items.

Wraith leaned back on her hands, gasping for air. She wasn’t fully downed again, so she got back to her feet. Her hands were trembling around her gun, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

The voices were scared. They watched every direction, scanning the world for its dangers. Hundreds of thousands of eyes staring from the void, circling her head. _Are there more? Are we safe? Where are the others? We’re going to die that was too close too close too clOSe we need to watch out, watch out, watch out-_

She paused.

_Anxiety. It’s anxiety. Calm down._

She tried to tell herself that. She wanted to believe it was anxiety so strongly. But it felt wrong, like she was lying to herself. The voices had their own verdict.

_Our chest is so tight̤͂.̻̇ W̝͘H̨͗y̞͐ ca̤̔n̙̎;t ͎wḙ͂ ̖̺̏̏b̲͈͊͛r̒͟EA̘̝̐̔th̢̅e.̪̤̌̌? ? ? ̨͋WHERE AR̛̲E T̛̟̒͢H͕̩̀̚E̲̰̍̑̚ͅ Ř̺Ĕ͎͍͒Ŝ̫͠ͅT̤̝̟͖̙̋̒̇͊̈́_

_̟͍́̒?̣̞͞ ͙̞̣̲̌̋̓͜͠͝?͚̜̱̥͊̓̌̊̚͟ ̤̮̣̘̰̌͌̀̾͠ ̧̦̖̠̀͐̋̓̈́͢?̖̥̱̼̬̿̂͌͠_

It was louder, clearer. She could feel them filling her ears, screaming. _͈͂LIS̪͋T͓̉E̽͜N̜̼̎̌ T̎͢O̜̒ Ǔ̩̝̆S̹͚͂͗ͅ ͔͐P͚̲̦̐̇L̗̏Ę̫͙̲͆̓͠͠AS̗̲̬͋̇́Ȩ͉̠̲͑̏͆̚͟͠.̡̠̼̯̺̈́͐͊͌͘_

She could hear Wattson calling for her to come loot with them in the distance. Bangalore yelling, asking if she was okay. The two of them, realizing something was off, calling across the cliff what was wrong. Feet hitting the ground as Wattson jogged over to her.

Her breaths were going _faster, faster, faster_. She could barely hear over the screaming in her ears.

_Danger, move._

She couldn’t tell between the real warnings and the paranoid ones.

Her hand reached up to her forehead. Digging into the skin. Like she could tear the voices out of her mind. She dug her nails further. _Stop stop stop please just stOP._

Her knees hit the ground. She screamed. Mouth still closed. The noise rumbling in her throat. Warmth ran down her hand and stained her forehead. _Blood blood blood… Faster. Faster._ Her breaths were going faster.

The whir of Wattson’s interceptor, usually held on her back, drew Wraith’s attention. She jolted at gloved hands touching on her shoulders. She could barely hear now. The voices. Everything. _It was all just so LOUD._

_Run._

_Get away from her get her away from us now now run rUN._

It was all they could agree on. _Get away, get to safety,_ from one voice. _Get away, don’t let them see us like this,_ from the other. Either one worked.

So she did.

She shoved away from Wattson’s touch, heels kicking into the ground before she burst into the void. Bangalore and Wattson left behind as she ran through the opening in the mountains. _Running. Running. Running._ Through the Repulsor Station. Down the stairs leading to the Swamps. _Run. Keep running. Don’t stop. Not until we’re safe._

The swamplands were just ahead. Filled with enough buildings and crannies for her to hide away. _Perfect._ Behind her, she heard their voices. She jumped out of the void. Staying in too long made her feel like she was burning.

Bangalore and Wattson's voices echoed on the buildings around her. Sounding like they were still back at Repulsor. She threw her arms behind her, and holstered her weapon. She zipped in and out of the void to lose their trail.

_Don’t let them find us get away get away we’re not safe here._

She crossed a shoddily-made bridge across the swamp water, and slid into a house. She slammed the door behind her and sat there, gasping for breath. 

_What the fuck am I doing._

She couldn’t stop her thoughts from swirling. She felt like throwing up, or crying. Anything to pour it all out. She couldn’t focus on the game. All she knew was that she was in the ring. She could hear her team, both of them both shouting on her ear piece. Wattson, desperately asking where she’d gone. Bangalore telling her they needed her back in the game. They both knew Wraith was too serious to play around. _Something was wrong._

She pulled the piece out.

_Break it break it what if they find us what if they find us and CATCH US._

_Don’t let them find us don’t let them find us._

Sparks jumped under her boot as she stomped it into the wooden floor beneath her. The shouting of her teammates silenced.

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She clapped her hands over her ears as she shook. She fell to her knees, and lowered her head. Her whole body was trembling. Every breath strained against her lungs. Air felt scarce. She felt light headed.

_cant breathe cant cant cant see what is, whats what happening_

_how do we calm down how we calm down how do we_

Her hands clawed at her throat.

Everything was so… Loud. Gunfire. Shots rumbled beyond the windows of the building she hid in. Her own breaths were so much for her to hear. Her throat felt like it was closing. Closing… _Cutting our air off. Can’t breathe. Can’t hear._ Her grip on her throat tightened. _More. More._ Until she was dry heaving. Head thrown back. Eyes wide. Staring at nothing. Burning bright white.

The voices were _screaming_.

Her nails dug in further. 

_Need, air. Need to BREATHE._

The dry heaving kicked up.

Her stomach lurched.

She snapped out of it and fell. Body falling in a heap. Eyes rolling back as vomit flowed out of her mouth. She laid there for a moment.

Vomit on her lips.

Vomit on her face.

Vomit on the floor.

The voices had fallen back to a hum. She didn’t have long. She could still feel them. Like the water in a pot before it boiled over. She clenched her teeth and balled her hand into a fist. She pushed herself up from the floor, and staggered to her feet.

Her eyes rolled forward. Returning to their usual piercing blue.

“Wraith!”

She jumped back at Wattson’s voice. Which didn’t sound too far off. The paranoia had settled. For a moment. She still felt uneasy. Her hand hovered over her gun in its holster.

Wattson hesitated before she knocked on the door. She’d been running around, looking for Wraith for a few minutes now. Searching while Bangalore closed off a spot for them to spend the final ring in.

 _We don’t have time for this._ The thought had crossed Wattson’s mind many times by now, but she brushed it away. Wraith knew better than any of them not to mess around in the games. Something wasn’t right. 

“Wh-What do you want.” Wraith's voice was scratchy. A side effect from the vomiting. And it quivered, sounding weaker than her usual stoic tone.

“I just want to know what’s wrong. This isn’t like you.” Wattson stood her ground with baited breath as she waited for a reply. She heard shuffling, and then a sigh.

“I-I don’t, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Wattson’s face fell further, a pang of sympathy echoing within her when she heard just how small Wraith’s voice was. Shaky and scared. She took a few steps closer to the building. Her hand settled on the front of the door, as she eyed the handle. She edged her hand closer to it, but stopped when Wraith started talking again

“It feels like everything's swirling and I can't tell what’s real anymore. All my thoughts are awful and I can’t think straight. I-I mean I know the awful ones aren’t mine. But, I just. I don’t know. I-I aaAHH!” Wattson flinched as a sudden ‘thud’ hit the wall. Probably Wraith’s fist. 

“Can I come in, Wraith? Are you okay?” _Maybe she had a bad reaction to the medicine. Maybe it messed with her voices._ Theories ran through her head. She could never be sure. Wraith was the one who knew the voices best after all. She waited for a response, but she got none. Her hand reached for the door handle, and pushed slowly, when it slammed shut from the other side.

 _“Just leave me alone!”_ Wraith hissed out. Her voice was.. Off. It sounded like it wasn’t just one of her talking. Like the voices were bleeding through, and talking alongside her. Some were lagging behind, making her sound glitchy, and skewed. Her eyes were visible to Wattson through the dirtied glass of the door. Wide, and crazed. 

White as pearls.

_“Why do you wanna help anyway??! Just leave me here and win the match without me.”_

“I-I care about you Wraith. I don’t care about the game if something’s wrong. I want to help.” Wraith stepped back from the door when she heard that. The voices in her head were tugging her in all different directions. She couldn’t tell what to do.

_She’s lying!!_

_She just wants to help!!_

_Tell her to fuck off!!_

_Let her in!!_

_“You only- You’re only here because you’re with them aren’t you. You don’t care about us. Y-you want to hand us back over. Their expe̤̿r͖͞i̹͛ṃ͂ē̟̻͠ṋ̡́̅t̼̪͎̦͚̐̇̒̿͛.”_

Wattson’s brows furrowed in confusion. She didn’t know who _they_ were. Or what experiment she was referring to. She drew her hand around the door handle, and cracked it open slowly.

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about Wraith,” She said softly. “-But I’m not here to hurt you. I love you, mon ami, I need you to try to breathe, and stay calm. Let me help you.”

She opened the door wider. Wraith was crouched back in the corner, R-99 raised at the ready, aiming for Wattson’s arm.

 _“Don’t, move.”_ Her words were slow, and surprisingly calm. Dried blood was caked on her forehead, and vomit still coated her teeth. Her eyes were wide, and white. A stark difference from her voice.

Wattson wondered if _her_ Wraith was the one speaking.

“Wraith, please. I know you’re in there. If you just let me i-” Wraith stopped registering her words as soon as she took a step closer. It was probably absent-minded. She probably didn’t mean to encroach on her. She probably didn’t mean to go against what she’d just asked.

The voices didn’t care.

_She’s going to hurt us she’s going to hurt us she’s going to hurt us she’s one of THEM._

“Wraith, please,” Wattson said softly. She leaned closer to Wraith, reaching her hands to pull her up from the floor.

BANG!

Time seemed to slow.

Blood flew past the two of them, less than Wraith thought would. As her eyes adjusted after the muzzle flash, she saw why.

Metal scraps flew through the air. One of Wattson’s jacket sleeves had torn and burned at the gunshot. Revealing the synthetic metal arm underneath. Wattson’s arm was scorched and dented after being hit with bullets. She looked down at Wraith in shock. Her outstretched hands hesitating before she turned her attention to her broken arm.

“Wrai- Wraith, merde. What the hell-” Her wide eyes caught on Wraith’s frantic ones, clouded with fear. Wattson ignored her arm for the time being. Teammates were unable to permanently harm each other in the arena, she wasn’t worried for herself. It was the fact that Wraith had acted out so violently. Shooting her like it would do something, like she needed to protect herself from Wattson. It worried her more than the sparks bursting from her sleeve.

Wraith crawled back. Furthering herself from Wattson and fumbling with her grasp on the gun. Her portal armband beeped, signalling her portal was charged again, and turned her head.

She raised her arm behind her, wind whipping up from out of nowhere, and a hole to the void ripped through the air. She raised her gun again at Wattson as a precaution, and pushed herself backward, lurching into the void.

“Wraith wai-!” Wattson’s words were cut off as Wraith disappeared. All that remained where she’d been on the ground were purple wisps of smoke.

\---

She gasped for breath as she fell through the other side. She stood on her hands and knees, coughing, rubbing a hand across her face.

_Around her, all around her, everyone was trying to cage her in, catch her off guard, make it easier to capture her. We told you so didn’t we. But no, you didn’t LISTEN._

The tears fell fast, but she brushed them away. Crying didn’t have a place in the face of danger, and she couldn't afford to be more distracted than she already was.

_BEHIND YOU!_

A shot hit her side before she could react. She spun on her heel, firing two blindly at whoever was behind her. She let herself fall a bit when she heard a cry of surprise, and a thud on the ground. She grunted at the swivel, the wound on her side ripping further. No worrying now, no time.

She sprung forward. Hissing at the pain. She chased after her attacker, before they'd have a chance to recover and run.

A few feet away from where she stood in the mud of Swamps, was Mirage. He was hiding (or at least trying to) behind the pipeline stretching the ground between them like a line in the sand. Blood was settling in the pools of water around him. And his leg was drawn close to his chest, a long tear across his pants gushing with blood.

“I know we’re fightin’ and all Wraith,” She heard him call out between swears and gasps of pain. “But like, are you good?” 

She heard him hiss out _“Fuck this burns,”_ Before he continued. “You don’t "ty-tycip-typical,” He stuttered, cursing under his breath as he thought of another word. “You don’t _often_ cry after seein’ my good looks.”

She didn’t care to roll her eyes at him, she couldn’t risk letting her guard down because of a stupid joke. Even if she could hear the concern dripping through his tone.

She shut her eyes. The voices knew what to do. _They were here to keep her safe._ She took a step. And another. Her pace quickening with each one. She pulled herself over the pipe, and leapt forward. Closing in on the hobbling Mirage, trying to escape the inevitable.

She ignored the shots that landed in her arm, she ignored the dirt that kicked up into her face. She unclenched her teeth, closed her eyes, let out a breath, and crackled out of existence, into the void.

Mirage stood his ground. Blood dripping from his leg and his mouth, bubbling in his throat, ears ringing like a fire alarm. He took his window of time to pull the mag out of his gun and swap it for a fresh one. His fingers shook as he pushed the bullets into his Wingman. Wincing as he tightened his grip on the grooves of the pistol’s handle.

“Damnit Wraith.” He swore under his breath. “One on one, one on one. I can do this. We’re both wounded, it’s fine.”

He didn’t say another word that match.

Wraith, no. _The Voidwalker,_ ripped back into reality. Behind him.

She didn’t give him time. Not to turn. Not to scream. Her kunai blade, usually held at her hip, was in and out by then. Resting on it's strap in her belt as he fell to his knees. His gun skittered away from his hand, sinking in the swamp mud. His respawn card glowed against her blood-smeared face as she crouched over his body.

_He’s got healing, shields. Need to protect ourselves. Keep us safe from the others._

She pulled what he had, dropping it in her bag, when her vision obscured. The world went dark, and her limbs went numb. She stood up, spinning around in the darkness, _reaching for something, anything-_

Then the words pierced the silence.

You are the Apex Champions.

…

He was the last one.

They'd won.

Nothing was wrong.

She was safe.

“Oh no.”

\---

“Wraith, Wraith over here!” She walked past the reporters, ignoring their desperate pleas. “What happened out there? What were you saying to Wattson when you shot her?! Are you working with the criminal TaeJo-” She tuned them out. Wraith’s eyes hadn’t un-widened from the shock at what she’d done. She looked like a ghost, living up to her name. Trailing through the lobby, walking the red carpet laid out for the winning team. Her hands were shaking. And the voices, of course, were silent.

Natalie and Anita trailed behind her, both of them quiet. Wraith couldn’t bring herself to face Natalie. Nat had reached over before, when they’d left the hospital wing. She'd tapped her on the shoulder, startling Wraith.

“Wraith, what’s going on? What happened out there?”

She’d walked away without answering.

\---

The voices were quiet that day.

And the next. 

And the next…

It felt like the first time she’d truly had her mind to herself in months, maybe years. It was so quiet. Almost too quiet. 

Whatever space the voices left for her was filled with her own rushing thoughts. Screaming internally over everything that happened. Every time she saw Natalie she averted her eyes. Every time she heard her tell-tale, skipping footsteps, she turned in the other direction. She couldn’t think about it, she wouldn’t let herself. Thinking about it meant remembering how awful she was, how she’d _hurt_ Natalie. Thinking about it meant scratching at the healing wounds up and down her arms, put there in the first place when the voices got to be too much. Thinking about it meant retching from the anxiety that it gave her to recall the look of horror and disgust on Nat’s face when her arm had been shot through by Wraith. 

She could barely tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore. 

She _knew_ when it was real, she could feel it, whether it was a gut feeling, or something striking a chord with her soul, she didn’t know. She always could tell just by instinct. But it was so hard to believe what she saw, even when it was right before her eyes. 

_She hates me she hates me she fucking hates me._

She’d gotten nothing but smiles and kind words from Natalie all week. She’d apologized to Natalie, (“Oh don’t worry Wraith! Are you.. Feeling okay? You seemed very on edge.” “Oh yeah, I’m fine it’s nothing. Just kinda spooked is all.”) Nothing to tell her the contrary of the fact that she’d forgiven Wraith. She couldn’t accept it, she just _couldn’t._ Nobody gave that kind of mercy to Wraith. Maybe they gave it to Renee Blasey, but she wasn’t Renee anymore. 

Renee died in that lab. 

She was Wraith now. An experiment gone wrong. An error in the system. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist but damnit she was here to stay. 

_Didn’t mean she deserved to stay._

Or that anyone was happy she was there. 

She was used to the hard stares, the cold expressions, the whispers behind her back, the loss of trust. She was well acquainted with the fear glossing over peoples eyes when she leaned over them, pressing them against walls, gritting her teeth, asking for answers. 

Nobody trusted the Voidwalker. Nobody spoke ill of the Voidwalker. Nobody acknowledged the woman behind the wraith.

So when Natalie played off that she’d even had her arm shot through, sparks flying, fear in her eyes as Wraith had leaned over her, gritting her teeth, asking for answers, it didn’t compute. 

_What is she pulling? What's she going to do? Are we in trouble? Is there danger whATS GOING ON-_

Even the voices didn’t have a clue, with all their paranoia scattered around, they couldn’t land on a single conclusion. 

The idea that anybody willingly would care for Wraith and try to understand her as a person was so unbelievable she didn’t allow herself to seriously consider it. She’d spent countless nights fantasizing, imagining finding that perfect person. Someone who understood her flaws, her issues, her past, and loved her for it. Someone who didn’t care that she saw herself as wrong, a bastardization of the woman Renee Blasey should’ve been able to be. 

She thought of Renee Blasey often. In a guilty sort of way. She’d researched the name thoroughly once she’d found it in the uncovered lab in the canyon. An old recording from Renee had stuck with her. She played it every once in a while, astonished at the weirdness of hearing your own voice saying things you couldn’t remember saying, or even understand. She’d never been drunk (at least while being Wraith) so she couldn’t relate the experience. Renee’s calm voice listing off the formulas and the evidence behind her theories for Project Wraith were often played before she slept. The only time of day she felt somewhat clear headed. 

Every morning her eyes were red, and puffy. Often enough where nobody wondered if she’d been crying all night, sobbing at the fact that she’d stolen this woman’s life, and work, and everything she’d worked towards, and turned into an anxious, paranoid fuck up. Something nobody wanted to get close to. 

She thought about every time someone had tried to get close, and gravitated away, realizing the layers underneath the exterior were too much for them to handle. 

She thought about how Natalie didn’t back away. 

And then she forced herself to face the reality that Natalie would never extend herself and try to get any closer than she already was to Wraith. It was selfish, childish, and downright stupid to think so. 

Wraith called herself Wraith because she didn’t deserve to parade around using Renee Blasey’s name as her own. She wasn’t a thief, and even then, she could never live up to the void scientist’s name even if she tried. 

_And heaven knows she’s tried._

Every day she’d tried to do her best.

_It’s never enough._

Maybe one day, when she died, she could meet Renee Blasey. The woman she couldn’t be.

Every night, after she’d cried her eyes out, and her throat ached from holding in the sobs l’est someone heard and pitied her enough to check in on her, pretending to care only because they’re people, _amazing people,_ and felt empathy towards her. She stared at the ceiling, thinking above it, to the stars, the galaxies, and everything beyond, and hoped that Renee was somewhere out there, watching what's become of her corpse. 

She hoped she'd be proud.

\-----

_Why do things always have to happen like this?_

It never felt like she could have a break, between fucking up, and having things around her be awful. Either the lab was getting uncovered, and she was forced to relive the memories of being trapped inside, or she was hurting Natalie. 

This time, it was closer to the former.

Things were bad enough when Revenant had joined the games. A demon forged through metal. She’d tried her best to avoid him. The voices rang out so clearly around him, more than around any other “person” she’d met. Wraith didn’t fear anyone, but if she never had to be near him another day in her life, she wouldn’t object. 

Then Loba joined.

And more IMC and Hammond tech was uncovered.

If the screams of the voices were audible, they would’ve deafened her by now. 

“We’re dropping at Salvage.” The idea of seeing the wreck of the first place she remembered living in made her stomach quiver like nothing else. She’d never thought _that_ match with Natalie would be topped, but she was _so, so wrong._

“Watch out, they’ve laid traps.” She spoke over comms to her team. Her feet hit the dry ground, kicking up dust clouds as she turned the corner. 

_Stop, danger._

She skidded as she realized she was at the edge of a cliff, freshly made once _half the fucking canyon_ had collapsed. She stared out for a moment, eyes captivated by the glimpses of metal, ruins of old lab rooms and hallways scattered amongst the rocks belows her. Cold, white, metal rooms. Scented with rubbing alcohol and gun metal. Suffocatingly small, and hundreds of feet underground. 

She couldn’t hear the yelling of her teammates in her ear piece. She couldn’t remember to grasp her weapon. Her knees buckled before she could say a word. Eyes rolling back as she fainted, falling over the edge.

\---

**_WHAT’S WRONG WITH WRAITH?_ **

**_WRAITH FREEFALLS, OFF THE EDGE, AND DOWN THE LEGEND RANKS._ **

The articles written about her performance didn’t hold back. 

The other legends didn’t either.

The concern the concern _the conCERN._

_It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real._

They were never mad at her for losing. For ruining their game. Fo _R FUCKING UP OVER AND OVER AND OVE-_

“Are you alright mon ami?” 

Natalie had walked into the common room, and noticing movement on the balcony, saw Wraith standing alone, clutching tightly to the railing, staring out at nothing. 

Back heaving as she tried to control her breathing. 

The glass door had slid open silently, and with the voices rambling on and on, Wraith hadn’t noticed Natalie stepping up behind her. She jumped, whipping around and moving her hand in front of her in defense. Natalie looked over her spooked figure and felt apologetic immediately. 

“Aah I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to startle you Wrai’, I was just checking on you.” She waved her hands around as she spoke, over-expressive as always, and mentally felt like kicking herself. Natalie slowed down when she looked past the shocked and curious expression on Wraith’s face and realized how red her eyes were, and how the moonlight glinted off of her wet face. 

“Really, Wraith, are you okay?” 

Natalie asked, hiding the uncertainty she felt, but it still stewed underneath. The unknowing at how she was supposed to handle situations involving other people. Day to day chatter she’d gotten good at, once she’d been told, either through people ignoring her, or full on yelling in her face, about how much they didn’t want to hear about whatever project she was working on. 

Wraith and Dr. Caustic were anomalies on that front. 

_Am I supposed to comfort her? I don’t know how I'm supposed to. Do I hug her?? I’ll just, I’ll just do how Ajay did for me when Papa died._

Wraith just stood there, frozen. Hands shaking at her sides as she felt the pressure build up inside her. She didn’t feel Natalie brush her hand down Wraith’s arm, wrapping her fingers around her palm. She barely registered her arms pulling her close.

“Wraith, what’s the matter?” Her voice was so soft, barely audible above a whisper, each sentence ending with a tone of unsurity. It made Wraith’s heart swell, that she was trying so hard. Natalie barely talked to anyone outside of her and Caustic, and maybe Octavio, just because of how hard it was for her to talk to people. _And here I am making her do all this just to check on me being an idiot._

She sat there, numb, unmoving, as Natalie held her in a stiff embrace. She didn’t mind it, she knew the effort she put behind trying to comfort _anyone_ and appreciated it all the same. 

Wattson lowered the two of them to the ground, holding Wraith snug to her chest. She gripped her tight, _just as her papa had when she was having a meltdown_. Like a weighted blanket helping to ground her.

“You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to, I mean, I don’t want to-to force you to talk you know?” Wraith shivered from the chilly air around her and pondered for a minute. 

_Don’t tell her she doesn’t need to hear this from us right now you’ll just be bothering her._

“I-I… “ Her voice trailed off as she searched for something to say. Natalie had taken to brushing her fingers through Wraith’s hair, which just made it harder to form a coherent thought. The voices commanded her to keep her mouth shut. 

“I lied.” 

The words hung in the air, Natalie stopped brushing through her hair to glance at her face, and didn’t get anything out of Wraith’s blank expression. Wraith sat there in her lap, eyes wide, mouth parted. 

Screaming

All she could hea _r was scREAMING._

Her body started to shake as she heaved on another sob, holding it in so Natalie didn’t hear. _Stupid stupid stupid why did I SAY that it’s so loud it’s so loud._ Tears threatened to spill over the edge again, and her cheeks flushed red. _Hold it in, hold it all in you have to-_

“-I lied when I said I was fine. After everything, you know.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet Natalie’s eyes. She didn’t get any indication of how she was feeling from her body language. Her hands didn’t shake like Wraith’s did when she was nervous; her breathing didn’t hitch when words wouldn’t come; her eyes didn’t spill over with tears she wouldn’t let anybody see. 

She envied her in a way.

Then again. She remembered how it was when her dad had died. Nobody saw her for days, until Ajay and a few others had found her hiding under a table in her house. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, hadn't spoken to a soul since they put him in the ground. 

It struck her as similar to herself in a way. 

Both of them quietly felt their pain until someone came to tell them it was okay.

Maybe that’s why Natalie was sitting here on the balcony, holding Wraith’s head to her chest as she listened to her try to explain what Wraith barely understood herself. 

_Don’t get too hopeful there._

_Nobody’s that nice._

“Why?” 

“Huh?”

“Why did you lie about how you felt?”

Genuine curiosity strung through Natalie’s voice and Wraith couldn’t tell if she was listening too hard for it or if she had been blessed in some way in the form of Natalie Pacquette. No matter what she saw herself as being more deserving of, Natalie had asked a question, and who was Wraith to not answer?

Natalie had already seen her like this. If she was going to be abandoned or seen badly, it was too late to fix anything. She may as well accept her fate and lay her cards on the table. _Maybe she’ll understan-_ no. 

_Don’t get your hopes up._

“The voices don't always help me. Sometimes, they get paranoid, and scared, and act out. And it’s overwhelming. I can’t tell sometimes which thoughts are _me_ and which thoughts are _them_.” 

“Sometimes that means I feel like everyone hates me and I’m going to die, and-” 

“Sometimes, it makes you fear that we’re a danger to you. That you have to protect yourself from your own friends.” Wattson finished for her, raising an eyebrow as she questioned whether her addition was correct.

She looked up in shock at Natalie’s face. She’d _told_ people about this before yeah, but she’d never gotten a hand reaching out to grab hers in the darkness. Nobody ever tried to understand before labelling her a freak. She’d been scared when she first made it known she even _heard_ the voices of the void. But she’d been too scared to speak further on it. 

“E-exactly.” She was speechless. Her eyes locked onto Natalie’s as she tried to process _but the words wouldn’t come. Just speak. Keep going keep going!! She’s listening to us!_

“Why didn’t you just say that though? We could’ve talked about this, or you could’ve gone to the medbay for help?” 

“And get treated even more like an outcast? Like I’m not human anymore I’m just the freak everyone always assumes I am? You think you’re the first person I’ve told this to before?? How do you think EVERYONE else reacts to this shit?!” 

She hadn’t meant to sound harsh but it still came through in her tone. Confusion turned to compassion turned to frustration. _WHY is she listening to me?? Why is she acting like this is normal is she stupid?? It’s not fucking normal what the fuck is she doing???_

Wraith stood up out of Natalie’s lap and took a few steps away, her shoes sounding against the wood of the balcony floor. She stood there, quiet, fingers curling and uncurling into a fist. Natalie stayed where she was, knees slightly drawn up as she watched Wraith stand there in silence. 

“I’m, I’m sorry I didn’t think about it like that. I get it, in a way.” She stood up and approached Wraith. She hadn’t reached out like before. She kept her hands to herself, fiddling them together as she rocked on the balls of her feet. 

“It’s not the same, but people always told me I was annoying or weird for talking about things I liked, things that were close enough to me to be a part of me,” She started. She couldn’t see Wraith’s expression, and reading the room was hard enough. She let out a breath and continued, hoping to everything that she was saying the right things.

“I get not feeling comfortable telling people about these things I mean. That’s, that’s a big thing to tell people about and I’m glad you told me, especially if it was hard for you. It- it shows how much you trust me. Honestly you and Dr. Caustic are the two people I’d trust most to talk to about things like this and I’m-I’m glad you feel the same as far as I can tell Wraith, I really am.”

She’d been watching the floor while she spoke, she barely looked at people while she talked anyway, _why should I when she’s got her back turned._ She glanced up when she was done though, and almost jumped when she saw Wraith was watching her, turned to face her now, closer than Natalie remembered her being before. Natalie looked up into her eyes and felt her heart strain at the fresh tears resting in the corners waiting for their release. 

Wraith started gasping for air and Natalie was confused, until she realized, with mild shock, that she was _sobbing._ Nobody’d seen Wraith cry, let alone _sob_ so freely before. She almost felt privileged, but didn’t have time to think over the implication of her being the only person Wraith allowed herself to break down and look weak in front of.

“Breathe Wraith, breathe,” Wraith could barely focus her eyes on Natalie’s face but she did as she was told. Shutting her eyes, relishing a bit in the way her name sounded when Wattson said it. 

She reached out and hugged Wraith, properly, holding her close and shoving down the fear of overstepping their boundaries, just for then. 

She felt Wraith’s breaths shuddering against her chest. She didn’t know what part of what she’d said had hit her, but she was glad she’d made an effect at all. Sometimes what she said missed the mark, sometimes it hit far too close for comfort. She’d learned by now the look on people’s faces when she finished talking was the easiest identifier of when she’d crossed a line. 

“It’s okay ma chérie, I’ll stay here with you, I promise.”She said softly. Her voice was so quiet, so gentle. Wraith could barely be in the moment, but she’d heard that. She wasn’t sure if it was Wattson’s promise to stay, or the way she’d said it. But tears welled back up all the same. Rolling down her cheeks silently and wetting Wattson’s jacket.

“ _I’m s-sorry I’m so fucking sorry.”_ Her voice was so _small_ but it reflected exactly how she felt. Oh she’d _yearned_ , for a moment like this. To hear words like that from someone. She’d never felt this, unconditional love expressed to her when she told someone about the pain she went through every day and every night. She wished it hadn’t had to come to her hurting Natalie to show a sign of something being wrong. She _hated_ that it had gotten so out of control that she risked her relationship, risked losing this moment, and _risked hurting her._

“ _I’m so sorry for-for everything, fuck.”_ She buried her face in more, and they leaned back, sitting in one of the few chairs decorating the balcony. She tried to ignore the way her heart sped up when Natalie pulled her further in her lap, and felt guilty in a way. Her thoughts focused on light-hearted stupid things. Like how she could smell the sweet scent of conditioner still lingering in Natalie’s hair while her head rested on her chest, or how nice it was when she trailed her fingers through Wraith’s hair. 

“If I’m being honest, it feels like you do more apologizing than anything worth saying sorry for.” Natalie remarked with a slight laugh, looking up at the sky around them and breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s not like you hurt me back there. Our wounds are healed after the match, and you hit my false arm, it’s not your fault mon ami. I’ve forgiven you to the moon and back for that.”

Tears welled up again. She pressed her face to Natalie’s chest and let them fall. She breathed her in, the vague scent of metal lingered in her hoodie she was wearing, but Natalie herself smelled... Like lemons. Tangy, exciting and electric, just like everything else about her. 

Wraith couldn’t explain the sensation she felt. Little did she know Natalie was mulling over the same thing. The feeling of utmost safety and comfort, like she could bleed every scar she’d bore over the years and Natalie would still wipe her tears away and call her a piece of art. 

The reality of night settled into her thoughts, her eyes closing against the fabric of Natalie’s hoodie as her sobs turned to sniffles and hiccups. Natalie’s fingers gently ran down her scalp, brushing through her hair, nails scratching ever so slightly, in rhythm with the low hum Wraith heard building in her throat. 

_I’m going to die._ Wraith thought. _I’m going to die right here right now in Natalie’s arms oh my God._

“ _Je t'aime toujours ma chérie._ No matter what’s bothering you. I’ll stay here with you, I promise. As long as you’ll have me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I spent a literal year working on and off on this and finally inspiration struck and I wrote a good two-thirds of it in under a week, and now months later I've finally edited it. Please comment and leave kudos if you liked it, and if you want you can follow me on tumblr, where I'm most active (@CherryEmeraldSoda) or twitter (@PastlPunkCowboy).
> 
> <3


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